<div dir="ltr">The pot of stew at Misha’s inn was carefully tended. Water and oats were mixed in by a sow who seemed to have authority there. People would walk up to her and offer something for the pot, whether carrots, potatoes, wild onions, or something else. She would inspect the ingredients before adding. Some were left by the side for later while others she disposed of in a bin. “She’s very wise, that woman,” said Kasaima as he and Trey sat for the night. Trey had resumed his full anthro form, feeling it would be rude to eat on the table. “How so?” “She’s using her senses and some magic to see whether or not the items are safe to go into the stew. What she can’t use now she saves for later. What isn’t safe she disposes of.” Trey nodded. “I’m glad I was able to talk with my family. They were getting worried. My mom’s not too happy about me going out east, but my dad thinks the journey will be good for me.” “I’ll teach you, Reed, and Aldric my language as we go. It’d be considered the Common tongue of the region. I could wish I’d be able to finish the carpet sooner, but the binding spells take time.” “The Curse isn’t so bad. Well, not for most folks anyway. Can you sense it Kasaima-san?” “I sense a great deal of magic in this area. It’s been hard to make out anything specific unless I’m close to it. I’ll be glad when we’re a bit further away from this valley; it feels like I’m in the middle of a rainstorm.” The two went up to the kettle and each took a bowl of the stew and some fresh bread and ale before returning to their seats. It looked to be a good night. *** Night had fallen and the moon was hidden. He made a closed camp on the side of the road, taking care to find what shelter he could among the trees. The fools had taken too long to let him go. The trail was long cold, and he could not track his quarry directly. Instead he had to use roads that his quarry would not have dared, taking a way that might not lead him to his quarry in time. He had to reach the demon before it was too late! He clutched at the sword at his side. It had agreed that his evaluation of the situation was true: the Royal Oni were planning to set up a puppet emperor and rule over those of the Thirteen Kingdoms. What the one they sent west wanted was a mystery, but his clan suspected it would be some way of legitimizing the false heir they had. He could not let that happen! Humans should rule humans! If the empire were to be restored, it should happen through normal marital lines, not some scheme by Onis who could not be trusted. And this one was headed to Metamor Keep. Perhaps worse than death was planned. There was a Curse of some kind on that place, turning and twisting human forms in ways totally against nature. Did it think to learn the Curse and cast it upon the Thirteen Kingdoms? Whatever it was planning, it would have to be stopped. Yuèliàng would see to that with his trusted sword, Yuèjiàn! ***In the morning at the Jolly Collie, Trey and Kasaima went down to breakfast. “I’ll be starting the charms on that rug today. I think I’d best teach you, Reed, and Aldric some fighting maneuvers. Possibly some magic too.” The person attending the pot was a child of indeterminate gender. Ze smiled as they approached. What was left of the previous night’s stew was in a small cauldron on a slow simmer. A larger pot of tasty gruel, some bread and cheese, and one more item graced the area. Kasaima looked at the strange, mushroom-shaped food. “What is this?” “A muffin sir! I think from Tuffin’s Muffins, though it could be from another of the Royal Order of Muffin Makers. Misha himself approves!” Kasaima chuckled. “This place has more interesting things than I imagined.” He and Trey sat down, each with a muffin and a bowel of gruel. Kasaima delicately tore off the edge of the muffin’s top and tasted it. His eyes widened and he smiled. “Delicious!” *** Jerrod must have fallen asleep at some point, since he heard the cock crow somewhere outside his cell. He was feeling better, his head clearer. He made for the toilet and relieved himself. There was an odd sort of basin with soap next to the open latrine, and he saw a lever on it. Pulling the lever let water flow out. It was cold but clear and it helped him clean up after the pelting he’d gotten. Rodrick and Nathan had yet to waken. There was a bowl of gruel of medium thickness in his cell–put there sometime he was sleeping. He drank it with some gratitude. The ways of the Keepers were strange to him. Who fed criminals well? Why keep them alive at all? It made no more sense now than last night. As he finished his breakfast, he pondered what fate might have for him. Working in a midden heap had been suggested. If that was the worst he suffered, he’d consider himself lucky. Then he felt a strange, tingling sensation at the lower part of his spine. His pulse quickened and he reached back to feel something growing there! When he brought his fingers around, he noticed a slight discoloring of his fingertips as well, and the same, odd prickly tingle. He went to wash them, but nothing he did could remove what was not a stain. “No. NO! NOOOOOOOOOOO!” --[Next Part Below]-- </div>